Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost
by Zsra187
Summary: The Maid is changed. That much he can see.
1. Chapter 1

The maid is changed. That much he can see.

Not only in her face. His eyes widen when he first sees her, her cheek red and raw, huge chunks of flesh missing as though someone had ripped them away. Her nose as well, broken and bent, serves to make her uglier than before, if that were even possible. But it's her eyes, her astonishingly blue eyes that cause him to falter.

The hopes and dreams and strength of the Maid of Tarth were all encompassed in those eyes the last time he saw her. The day he had given her Oathkeeper, - charging her with a seemingly impossible task - those eyes had held the courage of her convictions. Now they hold only misery, and despair.

_Stupid wench_, he thinks, as they ride together away from Pennytree. She lies to him and tells him that she's found Sansa Stark, a days ride away and held hostage by Sandor Clegane. He knows for sure that it's a falsehood; he can see it in her face, in the stiff position she holds her shoulders and the way she carefully avoids his gaze. But he goes with her anyway. He wonders what she's up to. She's obviously failed in her task and now seeks to deceive him with some hastily planned attempt at trickery. _I never should have given her that sword. _

Only such thoughts don't change the fact that he's missed her. It hits him the second he sees her riding through camp, as soon as he catches another glimpse of those horsey teeth and blue eyes. It pierces him with the force of an arrow straight in the chest - hard, fast and true. He's _missed_ her.


	2. Chapter 2

They ride hard after their escape from the Brotherhood, only coming to a stop when they are certain to have left them far, far behind. Brienne has to suppress the urge to dig her heels into her horse and keep riding all the way to the narrow sea, so she can walk straight into the water and drown. Her own betrayal gnaws itself into her stomach, burrowing so deep into her flesh that she's almost certain she will never be rid of it. Of all the people she's let down, all the oaths she has failed to uphold, this one stings the most. Jumping down from her horse, she turns away from her companions and bows her head. Never has she felt more ashamed of her actions.

'Well that was unexpected.'

Jaime's voice cuts through her like a knife. She isn't sure to which development of the past two days he is referring – his discovery of the undead Catelyn Stark, Brienne's betrayal of him to Lady Stoneheart, or her heartfelt declaration of love once she was certain that neither of them would survive the confrontation. Maybe he was referring to their miraculous escape. Of course, they had Pod to thank for that. The poor boy was clinging on to her shoulders as they rode - for they only had the chance to steal two horses – and is still wheezing uncomfortably now they have dismounted. Brienne suspects that he had been treated less than kindly by the Brotherhood while she had been on the search for Jaime, and her heart swells with gratitude towards him.

'It's getting dark, we'd best make camp. We can put more distance between us and them tomorrow.' Without pausing to look at Jaime, she strides away from the clearing into a small copse of trees, hiding her face in her hands. She cannot bear for him to look at her, not after everything she's done, everything she's _said._ It's only now that they've stopped that she has the chance to recall her words, her face flushing with embarrassment. It's something that she's never even admitted to herself, let alone anyone else. _Jaime Lannister is an honourable man_, she thinks, _and a great warrior. _The scorn that he attracts from almost everyone in the seven kingdoms causes such anger to rise up inside of her. _He deserves the chance to prove them all wrong. _But after today she cannot deny it, her feeling for Jaime go beyond mere admiration. She conjures up the face of Renly Baratheon in her mind, with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes, and is shocked to realise that the intensity of feeling towards both men is frighteningly similar.

Brienne cannot understand it. She has faced a fully grown mountain bear with only a blunted tourney sword, fought off the Knight of the Flowers to become a member of the Rainbow Guard, sunk a wooden galley without breaking a sweat – yet this is the realisation that makes her knees shake and her heart pound. She is in love with Jaime Lannister. Even worse, now he knows it.

Wiping her dirty, sweat-soaked forehead on her sleeve, Brienne turns around and barely manages to suppress a gasp. The man himself has followed her from the clearing and now stands before her. Dropping her hands, sheeyes him warily, unsure of what he's going to say. He comes towards her, golden hair shining in the last dying rays of the sun, regarding her with an uncharacteristically tender gaze.

'Brienne,' he says, and she knows it's an effort for him not to just say, '_Wench.'_

'You've done nothing to be ashamed of.'

Her chest constricts at his words. _How can he possibly know how much shame I feel?_

'I betrayed you,' she replies flatly.

He laughs, a rich, musical laugh that washes over her skin and warms her very bones. 'You did nothing of the sort. You fought just like the wench I remember.' He sounds almost proud of her; a ridiculous notion, considering her actions almost got him killed.

'Besides, I like a good fight. Life was getting entirely too boring, endless treating with too many puffed-up lords. I'm glad to have an excuse to get away from it all. ' He gives her a dazzling smile, that for a split second, makes her feel like all is right in the world.

But has he really forgiven her so easily? _How can he be so jovial about this entire situation?_ Brienne once again finds herself shaking her head at this ridiculous man. 'I don't believe you.'

She turns away again, utterly despondent despite his words of reassurance, but then his hand is on her shoulder and he's pulling her around to face him. His kiss is hot and soft and sweet and _oh_, her lips tingle when he pulls away. But it's over far too quickly; she doesn't even get a chance to look into his eyes before he walks away, although she does catch Pod staring at them through the trees, his mouth open in an expression of utter surprise.

She stands, awkward and stiff, her mind flooded with a thousand thoughts and her mouth unable to articulate any of them. She has to get away. 'I'll get some firewood,' she blurts at Pod, and stalks off deeper into the trees.


	3. Chapter 3

**Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost**

Lord Harroway's Town is full of people when they arrive: peasant refugees whose land and farms have been ravaged by fire and violence, bands of Lannister soldiers with their red and gold cloaks who frequent the inns, pissing in the streets and fucking wenches in dark alleyways. It's freezing cold and pouring with rain as they ride through the town, mud splattering up the flanks of Jaime's horse as they come to a stop outside an inn: The Wilted Thistle.

'Take the horses around to the stable,' he mutters to Pod as they dismount. 'I'll go in with the lady and get us a room.'

'Yes Ser Jaime. Yes, I will do, thank you Ser Jaime.' The boy is uncommonly keen and it makes Jaime crinkle a smile. _I was just like that as his age. Wide-eyed and eager to stick my sword in a man and my cock in a wench. _Of course, he had Cersei for that, the only woman he's ever loved. As his thoughts dwell on his sister, he watches Brienne push the door open in front of him and stride in. They couldn't be two more different women. Couldn't _taste_ more different.

He still didn't know what had possessed him to kiss her. She just looked so _heartbroken_, and not for the first time, he'd found himself wanting to comfort her. He used to comfort Cersei when she was upset; he would slide his hand between her thighs and stroke her steadily to a climax, 'til she was wet and writhing beneath him, all tears and tantrums forgotten. He almost laughed at the thought of offering _that_ to Brienne. So instead he had kissed her, pressed his mouth gently to hers in a sweet, innocent, chaste meeting of lips, a thousand miles away from any sort of embrace he'd ever had with his twin. It was just as awkward as he would have expected. What he couldn't have foreseen, what he never would have guessed in a thousand long winters, is that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about it since.

The raucous noise of the inn pushes both the wench and his sister from his mind as they enter. It's packed to the rafters with people eating, drinking, talking, laughing, swearing. _We'll be lucky to get a room, _he thinks. _We'll probably end up sleeping on the stable floor. _He watches Brienne as she strides up to a greying, pot-bellied man, clearly the owner of this gods-forsaken place. The crowd parts as she walks and Jaime's blood boils as people start to whisper and point. One woman, some old hag tavern wench, even laughs at her. He supposes she must make a sight for people who aren't as used to her as he is. _A woman as tall as the Hound and just as ugly, wearing a knight's armour to boot. _But Brienne stays on course, resolutely ignoring those around her who joke and jest. There's a subtle difference, Jaime notices, between the Brienne that stands before him now and the Brienne that left him so long ago. Even the Brienne that came to him at Pennytree less than a week ago. There's something in her manner and the way she holds herself. It's not confidence – _the wench will never be confident, except when she's got a sword in her hand _– but nevertheless, she walks taller. Unafraid and unwilling to let other people get the better of her. It's something he can almost admire.

'There's only one room left.' Brienne informs him when she returns. Pod reappears at her side, and she looks at him carefully. 'Come, lets sit down. I've got us something to eat.'

Jaime was grateful for it. He didn't even realise how ravenously hungry he was until they'd sat down and three steaming bowls of stew were placed in front of them. It was thin, and the little meat that was swimming in it was gristly and tough, but the three of them wolfed it down anyway.

'I asked the inn-keep about the Brotherhood,' Brienne says quietly as she spooned the stew into her mouth.

Jaime nearly splutters at her stupidity. 'Well, let's hope they're not sympathisers, or else I might wake up tomorrow morning with another noose around my neck and a red hot poker up my arse.'

Brienne glares at him, while Pod gives him a little smile. 'They're not sympathisers,' she says stubbornly. 'Look how many Lannister soldiers frequent this town. The Brotherhood holds no sway here.'

'Is that what the inn-keep said?' Jaime spits.

'More or less. They've been ambushing small bands of soldiers just west of here, hanging the bodies on the side of the roads. He's too afraid to say much. They're all afraid.'

It was a similar story all across the Riverlands. Most of the Riverlords had surrendered, and he himself had lifted the siege on Riverrun, but outlaws still roamed the land and killed at will. House Lannister had won this war, but it seemed to be far from truly over yet. The Seven Kingdoms were still plunged in chaos.

'I think we're safe here, for the time being. But we should move on first thing tomorrow morning,' she finishes.

He sighs, and nods his head. Brienne's tone booked no arguments, however much he disliked it. He wasn't completely comfortable staying here… but then he probably wouldn't have been comfortable staying anywhere at the moment. He'd suffered for years with the whispers and the insults of a 'Kingslayer,' but he'd always taken them on the chin. Knowing that there was a group of outlaws out there who were determined to have his head… Well, it didn't unnerve him. It certainly didn't scare him. But it was enough to make him wary.

'So where do we go from here?'

Her head whips up, blue eyes full of surprise. 'We?'

'Yes. Why, am I supposed to be going somewhere?'

Her eyes flicker wildly over the room, looking every which way but at him before she quietly says, 'I thought you'd be going back to Kings Landing.' She sounds almost forlorn at his announcement, a fact that makes Jaime slightly angry, even though he tries not to show it.

Instead, he leans back in his chair in that cocksure way he knows will absolutely infuriate her. 'Well, I _am_ the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. But I must admit wench, after going so long without seeing you, I'd forgotten how eventful it is to be in your company.' He gives her a disarming smile, making her scowl. 'You can't expect me to leave now and let you have all the fun on your own.'

Her eyes flash with steel and her shoulders set back in that stubborn posture he recognises so well. _The wench isn't going to give up without a fight. _Jaime almost sighs – it was so like her.

'Eventful would be an understatement, Ser.' _Oh, so she's back to formal pleasantries, is she?_ _Whatever happened to 'Jaime'?_

'I will not give up the search for Sansa Stark,' she continued. 'I swore an oath that I would find her for you and restore your honour, and I do not intend to break it.' As she talked, Brienne's face took on that determined look that Jaime always associated with her penchant for swearing oaths. 'And whilst I am sure you feel that you can shirk your Kingsguard duties whenever the mood strikes you… I would rather go alone.'

He should really be grateful that she was releasing him from her burden; perhaps even feel elation at being able to return to Kings Landing. I _could go back to Cersei._ Instead, he only feels a bitter stab of anger at her dismissal of him.'As you will, Brienne.'

They both return to their bowls, and finish their meal in silence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost**

Brienne has never been a talker.

Even when she was a baby, she was more often silent than not. She wouldn't babble or laugh like most children, her Septa told her. Instead, she crawled and walked and climbed with the same steely determination in which she did everything else in life.

Talking about her emotions had always made her feel slightly awkward. She would try to get the words out, but they would stick in her throat, making her blush and stumble even further. She was an embarrassment to her enraged Septa, to her exasperated father, and to herself most of all. Instead, her real strength came in the practice yard; as she swung her sword to and fro, letting the graceful flow of her movements speak for themselves, Brienne knew that this was truly her comfort zone. With strong steel in her hand and a shield strapped to her arm, there was nothing she need fear.

But she fears now.

He cannot come with her. He absolutely cannot.

Her heart longs for him. Longs to be near him, talk to him and laugh with him for as long as she can. Longs for this night to be an everlasting one: for dawn never to break, birds never to twitter and Jaime never to ride off on his horse, away from her and out of her life once again.

The heart wants what it wants. But Brienne knows better, recognises it for what it is. _An impossible dream._

She came to the decision as they were riding across the Riverlands towards their current destination, and now she feels the pain of it like a physical blow. _Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. _It's a chance for honour that Brienne knows will never be within her grasp; but Jaime has that chance. A blank page to write a new history. He must go back to Kings Landing and seize that chance with all his might. To keep him here with her, however much she desires it, would be the most selfish decision she could ever make. _He deserves the chance for honour. I must not keep him from it._

Brienne knows she has made the right decision, the honourable decision. But just for once, she wishes she did not give a fig for honour.

She unbuckles her belt, tugging off her armour and dropping her sword to the floor of the room with a carelessness that borders on anger. It's a small chamber, with only a dusty bed in the centre of the room and hardly any furniture, but a roaring fire has been lit in the hearth, bathing the room in warmth. For someone who's been sleeping on the cold, hard ground for months, the room is a luxury Brienne is completely unused to. _Perhaps I may even get a good night's sleep tonight. _

Unfortunately, the moment she has the thought the door opens. Podrick Payne stumbles noisily through and falls straight into the bed, wincing and clutching his side. _The boy has been through a lot_, she thinks. _He may have a few bruised ribs, but he'll live_.

Settling herself on the floor, Brienne waits for sleep to claim her, but her mind whirls with a thousand thoughts and falling asleep seems like an impossible task. She has no idea where Jaime is – _probably unwilling to come upstairs since I refused his request to join me. _Brienne doesn't blame him. If only she'd had the guts to tell him the truth. _You can't come with me, because I love you. A Lord Commander of the Kingsguard must be willing to forsake everything in his life for a chance of honour. _Even if that means she must be miserable for the rest of her life, she will do it.

Pod falls asleep almost immediately, while Brienne lays exhausted on the floor. After half an hour of tossing and turning, the noise of the door gently opening makes her freeze.

Jaime enters, unbuckling his belt and armour and stripping of his leather jerkin. There is plenty of room on the other side of the bed for him to lie on the floor, only he doesn't; Brienne watches through a crack in her eyelids as he walks around and lies down right next to her, so they are facing. They are only a foot apart and his eyes search her face.

'Don't pretend to be asleep, wench.'

She opens her eyes quickly, the hot flush of embarrassment creeping up her face at being caught out. 'I'm not pretending. I'm just resting my eyes,' she replies.

'One would think that after months of sleeping outdoors, you'd be able to fall asleep on the floor of inn in front of a blazing fire,' he teases her. 'You must have a lot on your mind.'

'I do,' Brienne answers simply. 'Ser Hyle…'

'You cannot blame yourself, Brienne.'

'I can and I will. If I hadn't have been so stupid, if I hadn't have got us captured…' her voice cracks with emotion. '… He needn't have died.' The events of the past few of weeks finally catch up with her and utter sadness crashes over her heart.

'Do not trouble yourself so,' Jaime repeats. 'The man had a good, clean death. He died with his sword in his hand, the way any knight would have wanted.'

Brienne is sure his words are meant to be a comfort to her, but she cannot take them that way. 'I am sure he would rather have not died at all,' she says miserably.

'He made his decision, and it was a foolhardy one. Staying back to fight so the rest of us could go on was brave, but stupid.' Jaime's voice is a harsh whisper, but softens after a pause. 'Doesn't mean I'm not bloody grateful for it though.'

He smiles at her, only it's not his dazzling, courtly smile that he saves for wooing the crowds or charming the ladies of Kings Landing – it's a genuinely happy smile. The skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkles slightly and Brienne is so struck by how absolutely b_eautiful _he is that she almost cannot breathe.

They lie in silence for a few moments. Jaime clearly has decided not to address the fact that he will not be accompanying her and Brienne almost sighs with relief. However stubborn she may be, she does not wish for him to argue too much, lest she lose all self-control and allow him to join her. _I must not let that happen. I can continue the search on my own. _

'What are you thinking of?'

Jaime's voice jolts her out of her thoughts. _Damn that man for prying so._

Her mind spins, trying to think of a believable lie, and settles on the snoring young man sleeping above them. 'I was thinking of Pod.'

'Ah yes, our young hero,' Jaime smiles at her again.

'He's a good lad,' she says. 'I thank the Gods he hasn't paid the price for my stupidity.'

'Careful, Brienne. One might think you were actually fond of the boy.'

'I am,' she admits. 'I did not think I would feel such an affection for him, but I do. When I think about what could have happened to him…' She almost shudders to think of it. 'He has become a constant in my life. I could not bear to lose him.' The torrent of emotion that surges out of her as she thinks about her squire, the loyal Podrick Payne, almost surprises her. It seems to take Jaime aback as well, but he recovers quickly.

'Is that what you meant yesterday when you told Catelyn Stark that you loved me?'

His words suck the air out of the room and the breath out of her lungs. He's always had a penchant for being astoundingly direct. She hates that now, hates how it makes her face flare up and that lump form in her throat, hates how panic rushes through her veins at the thought it admitting it, admitting right to his face that she's in love with him. Her voice is a shattered whisper when she replies, her eyes glued to the floorboards beneath her.

'That was a misguided attempt to try and save your life,' she croaks defensively. 'She used to talk of her husband and children so often… I thought if I told her that, she perhaps she might remember what it is like to love. I was trying to appeal to her human nature.'

Her wilted voice falls away and she cannot look at him. When she finally raises her eyes to his, she cannot make out his expression at all; even his voice betrays no hint of what he's feeling underneath that shining, golden exterior. 'Clearly you were unsuccessful.'

'I should have known,' she laments. 'There is nothing left of Catelyn Stark now. There is only Lady Stoneheart.'

They both sigh. It's clear that the conversation is over, and Brienne cannot be more grateful. Only now they descend into an awkward silence, punctuated by the sounds of the dying fire and the gentle snores of Pod above them. Brienne closes her eyes and forces herself to relax, although it's an impossible task with Jaime so close. _This is ridiculous, _she berates herself. _Not so long ago, you were naked with this man. You have seen all there is to see of him, and he has of you. _It hadn't bothered her then, she was far too preoccupied with the fact that he was practically delirious and had just fainted in her arms. But now she can feel his eyes on her and it makes her squirm with discomfort. The urge to hide her face in her hands so that he can no longer see her half-chewed cheek overwhelms her, but thinking perhaps that she should show slightly more grit in front of him, she opens her eyes.

She's right; he's looking at her intently. His eyes search her face, linger on the ripped and twisted flesh of her cheek. As he looks her over, he shuffles closer - her heart beats faster.

'I'd ask about the fate of the poor fellow who did that to you,' he whispers, 'but I'd wager he's most likely dead?'

'Aye, but not by my doing.'

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. 'What happened?'

Brienne almost couldn't bear to relive it. 'Are you sure you want to hear it? It's a sorry tale.'

'Any sorrier than this tale?' He brings up his right arm and waves his stump at her.

He has a point there. 'It was at the Inn at the Crossroads…' she starts. 'I don't suppose you've heard of a certain criminal named Biter?'

They both lay there while she tells the tale; exhausted, but basking in the warmth of the fire. It crackles and spits, and eventually the flames smoulder as the fire starts to die out, but neither of them move to re-kindle it. Brienne tells herself that there's no point in throwing more wood on it, not when they're that close to falling asleep anyway. What she won't admit is that she is perfectly unwilling to move away from Jaime. After so long apart, she relishes their closeness.

Soon enough her voice gets lower, her pauses become longer, and before she knows it, she has fallen asleep. Her dreams are filled with blood and fire, with thick, grey smoke that curls around her body with long fingers, into her hair, up her nose and down her throat until she chokes. A huge bear, even bigger than the one she fought in the pit, prowls along the edge of her vision, while the screams of the dead ring in her ears, boil her blood, singe her very soul. She reaches for Oathkeeper at her hip, only when she pulls it out of the scabbard, the steel is so searingly hot that she screams and her sword hand dissolves into ash. And throughout it all, the image of Lady Stoneheart winds through the smoke. Blood drips from the slashes on her face, gushes like a river from the slit at her neck, the slit that goes from ear to ear. She meanders in and out of Brienne's vision, hissing and spitting like a cat, covering her throat as she snarls. 'Choose,' she says. 'Choose.'

'I will not choose,' Brienne replies.

Lady Stoneheart turns away, and as she does so the bear charges. Without a sword, Brienne cannot do anything but shield her face, but missing a hand she cannott even do that well. The bear knocks her down, it's great weight crushing her chest as his muzzle snarls in her face, revealing his long, yellow canines. Brienne screams as his jaws bite down on her face, tearing away the flesh of her cheek, her hand scrabbling uselessly against its fur as her face is ripped to pieces.

Suddenly and without warning, the great monster lifts his head and gives a roar. Through the smear of her own blood and tears, Brienne can just make out the hilt of a sword stuck deep in its hindquarters, and a bright, golden figure circling them both carefully. The silhouette runs forward and pulls the sword out of the bear, then circles again and, quick as a flash, thrusts the steel upward into its furry throat. The bear moans piteously and crashes heavily to the ground, expelling a cloud of grit and dirt that blocks out the sun.

When the dust settles, Brienne can make him out clearly. Of course it was him, who else could it be? The shining, glorious figure of Jaime Lannister leans over her with his hand outstretched. 'Here, wench. Let me help you to your feet.'

He hauls her up with relative ease, despite her tall and awkward frame. 'Ser Jaime…'

'Ser Jaime…'

'Jaime…'

'Jaime…'

Brienne wakes with a start, her mouth half-open and his name still on her lips. The first thing she notices is the soft, early morning light streaming through the shutters. The second, and far more worrying, thing is that she's practically wrapped around the very man whose name she has just uttered.

As she quickly surveys their intimate embrace, Brienne feels her face flare up like never before. They seem to have shuffled closer in the night, the result now being that their faces are only several inches apart. Looking down, she realises with mounting horror that her both her hands are curled around the front of his linen shirt, almost pulling him towards her in a most undignified manner. Even worse, below the waist there doesn't seem to be any space between them at all. A lump forms in her throat as she sees that their legs are completely entangled; their hips flush against each other. _Brienne, if your Septa could see you now…_

'My, my…' a voice whispers in her ear. 'This certainly is a most pleasant wake-up call.'

Brienne gasps and practically shoves Jaime away from her, spluttering all the while as he throws a smile at her. It makes her want to smack him. 'I must admit, I can't remember the last time I awoke to a wench moaning my name in her sleep.'

'I was not…' Brienne immediately goes to rebuke him before she realises that he's actually spoken the truth. 'I was…' _How can I explain this?_

'I had a dream,' she finishes, hoping that her blotchy, reddened face will calm before she is embarrassed even further.

'A dream?' His eyebrows jump in surprise at her admission. 'Don't be embarrassed, Brienne. I had a dream of you once, remember?'

_The dream. _Her heart leaps in her chest, pounding away so fast at the mention of it that she feels it might burst straight out of her ribcage. 'And I told you then I am no worthy participant of such romantic imaginings.'

'Well what if I say you are?' His voice is teasing, and her heart thumps even harder.

'Then I would say you are a blind fool.'

'I may be a cripple and I may be a fool, but I'm not yet blind.'

She cannot take much more of this. _This is just a game for him_, she thinks. _Not a cruel one, like the knights on Tarth used to play, but a game nonetheless_. 'Please, Jaime, do not go on. I cannot bear it.' She looks him straight in the eye. 'Especially from you.'

His smile falters slightly and his eyes narrow - what were once warm, emerald orbs that danced with amusement now turn to ice. 'One day, you will learn to tell the difference between jest and genuine sincerity, my lady.'

There was a time not so long ago, that Brienne would have found it hard to believe that Jaime Lannister could ever have been genuinely sincere about anything. But there's something in the coldness of his tone that makes her believe it now. Before she has time to apologise, he hauls himself to his feet and strides out of the room, slamming the door on his way out.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you for reading. Reviews are _greatly_ appreciated :-)


	5. Chapter 5

'The Lady Brienne really is a great warrior, isn't she Ser? The way she parried that thrust from that outlaw Harwin, did you see it? It was incredible!' Jaime frowns as Pod continues to chatter away alongside him. 'I've never seen anyone fight like that, never! Except you, of course, Ser. But the Lady Brienne, when she overpowered those men, I've never seen a sight like it. Even before, Ser, when we were journeying through the Saltpans, she would…'

_The boy does not stop talking, even to take a breath._ The days they have spent on the road together appear to have stripped away the young squire's shy, stumbling nature. Now, instead of constantly being in awe of the Kingslayer, Pod seems to have taken it upon himself to provide Jaime with a running commentary of their day-to-day activities. This particular morning, as Jaime readies his horse for the ride back to Kings Landing, the boy's endless babbling finally turns to the subject of their female comrade in arms.

Jaime lets Pod prattle on, while his mind turns over the situation in which he's currently found himself. He finds it ironic that now he is the one being left behind, and she's the one going ahead. Back when they were at Harrenhaal, he'd left her there without a second thought; rode out of the gates with the wind beneath him, unwilling to even comprehend what effect his leaving may have had on her. Did she feel relief, perhaps, that he was no longer under her protection, no longer her burden? Had she felt hatred towards him, for leaving her at the mercy of Vargo Hoat and the Brave Companions? Or did she feel the same unexpected sting of betrayal at her abandonment that he now feels? _Well, now it is the other way around. _Jaime gives a sardonic smile; the reversal of their situations doesn't fail to amuse him.

Not that he could blame her. _You gave her a job to do, made her swear an oath. No bloody wonder she doesn't want you to come with her. _She probably doesn't want her good, honourable work to be sullied by the dishonourable Kingslayer. _Well if that's what she wants, I won't stand in her way. Stubborn cow. _

He swings onto his horse – his _stolen_ horse – ready for the off, but the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as a familiar figure enters the stable and strides towards him. Brienne claps a huge hand on Podrick's shoulder and looks at him questioningly.

'Did you sleep well? How is your arm?'

Very well, Ser... my lady,' the young boy stumbles. 'The arm still pains, but it's getting better.'

'That's good.'

She nods smartly, but keeps her great blonde head bowed. Jaime has to resist the urge to huff, or clear his throat to alert her attention to the fact that here he sits, waiting for her to notice him so he can finally _leave_ for Kings Landing and his sister. But the wench still hasn't spared him once glance since she arrived; indeed, her determination to avoid his gaze makes him want to growl in frustration.

The time for him to leave is now; every second sat here is a second wasted. Only suddenly he doesn't seem to be able to move. His legs are leaden and won't kick back into his horse's flanks, his arms hang by his sides, his one good hand curled loosely around the reins.

'It seems a cruel fate, my lady,' he finally says, the words spilling from his lips unbidden. 'To be reunited after so long, only to be separated again after so short a time.'

_Aahhh, success. _Her head shoots up and she looks at him with those astonishingly blue eyes, seeming to be on the edge of tears. Had he two hands instead of one, he would have drawn her into a close embrace, in the same way he had tried to comfort Cersei after Joffrey's death. Instead, he reaches up with his good hand and gently brushes a blonde, straw-like tendril of hair away from her face.

'Yes,' she replies, voice heavy with misery. 'A cruel fate indeed. Are you ever going to go?'

Jaime has to laugh at her, throwing his own words back at him. _The wench's wit has certainly sharpened with time._ 'Aye. Goodbye, Brienne. Good luck.'

He gives her one last look, then rides out of the stables into the glittering sunshine.

* * *

He rides for over an hour, until the bright sky darkens and the billowing charcoal clouds overhead threaten rain. For what seems like the hundredth time in his life, he finds himself riding south through the Riverlands towards Kings Landing and once again, he's stuck by how very different his journey now seems to the one he has taken beforehand; then, he had Steelshanks Walton, his men and Brienne for company, if you could call her miserly face that. Now he has nothing and no-one but the scrawny, blackened crows who line the spindly tree limbs on his ride back to the Kingsroad. Jaime curses his bad luck - their squawking seems never-ending and it's giving him a terrible headache.

A bout of nervousness settles itself in his belly as he rides, snakes itself around his guts and squeezes them in an iron grip. It reminds him that it isn't just the company that's changed since he last ran back to the city. For the first time in his life, Jaime entertains the possibility that the sudden apprehensive feeling in his bowels might just be due to his approaching reunion with his twin. _I burned her letter,_ he thinks._ I didn't reply_. _She'll never forgive me for that. _Was it a moment of madness? He's never refused her before; indeed, he'd always run to her aid when he felt she had need of him, acting first and thinking later. But now... is that nervousness in his belly, or a gentle pull of hesitation?

_Nervousness_, he decides. He could go back to Pennytree, but the odds were that the camp would have moved on in his absence. They could be anywhere, and he doesn't fancy riding aimlessly around the Riverlands waiting for the Brotherhood to pick him up again.

The Brotherhood. Those band of poxy twits. Bannerless they were, might as well be cockless too. _Only they have a banner now_, he muses, or _at least a figurehead - a walking talking corpse, hell-bent only on revenge._ He understood that well enough; he doesn't need reminding that he nearly killed Ned Stark in payment for his wife taking Tyrion hostage. And now that very same women took the maid and the boy. Just thinking about it causes a red-hot fury to boil in his veins.

Suddenly the thunderous pounding of hooves isn't the only sound assaulting his senses. A voice on the wind just reaches his ears, urgent and calling.

'Ser Jaime! Ser Jaime!'

He pulls hard on the reins of his horse, whips his head so fast he almost gives himself a crick in the neck. There's a small figure riding hard toward him and Jaime's eyes widen in recognition as it gets ever closer.

'Pod! What is it?'

'It's my lady!' the young boy replies. He's gasping - from the fast ride most probably – and has to take a few deep breaths before he can continue. Jaime almost explodes with impatience, anxious to know what it is that has sent Pod riding so hard after him. _What in the blazes can she possibly want now?_

'Well? Out with it!'

'She wants you to come back, Ser.'

'Why? Does she need a point in the right direction?'

His sharp tone is completely lost on the young squire. 'No, Ser. She wants you to come with us.'

'Is that what she said?'

'Aye, Ser. We rode for a while after you left, but then she said that she'd made a mistake and that I had to come and get you.'

Part of him thinks he should just ignore her. _Send the boy back with a scathing reply and head on to Kings Landing anyway._ _That'll teach her for being so bloody indecisive. _But it's an idea he dismisses almost as soon as it comes to mind.

'Well, Pod,' he says as he wheels his horse around. 'Lead the way.'

It takes a long while to ride back to where Brienne waits for them; when they arrive in a clearing the sky has darkened so much it seems like night. When she turns to see their arrival that he realises he's sporting a rather large and genuine smile. Deciding that it'd be better for her not to see it, lest she take it as smug arrogance on his part, Jaime schools his features into something more placid.

Brienne nods a greeting and he has to suppress the urge to roll his eyes at her. She may not look much like a woman, but he'd be damned if she didn't have all the characteristics of one. _That wench changes her mind more often than she changes her shirt._

'So you've changed your mind? Can't go on without me after all, eh?'

Brienne squares her shoulders awkwardly. 'I have decided to allow you to accompany me, if it is still your wish to do so.'

'Well I'm not sure now,' he retorts, just to annoy her. 'I was halfway to Kings Landing when you called me back, you see.'

'Do you want to come or not?'

He waits, just to frustrate her further. 'Of course I still wish to come,' he tells her. 'Which road are we taking?' He wonders if she means to head east.

'We'll head for Riverspring, then into the Vale.'

'You think she will have fled to the Arryns?'

'Sansa would have known to run to those she knew,' Brienne reasons. 'She has a brother at the Wall, but that's over three hundred leagues from here. It makes sense to check the closest places first.'

'She could have arrived before Lysa Arryn died, but Petyr Baelish is there now. Why wouldn't he have sent word to Kings Landing if the girl turned up at the Eyrie?'

Brienne shrugs. 'I do not know. But we may as well go, even if she isn't there. Lord Baelish may be able to shed some light on where she might be.'

Jaime doubted it. _Petyr Baelish is an ambitious man. He doesn't do anything for anyone unless it somehow benefits him._ But he doesn't want to tell Brienne that.'Very well. But we should stay off the High Road, at least until we get to the foothills of the mountains. I'd rather not encounter the Brotherhood again.'

They ride for over an hour before he asks her. The wench remains quiet almost the entire time, only pausing to give one word answers to the many questions he asks. Not even insulting her draws her from silence. Finally he relents, deciding that the time may be ripe for a little sincerity. He pulls his horse up alongside hers, close enough that they won't be overheard by the young squire trotting along behind them.

'Brienne,' he says, although the name still sounds strange on his tongue. 'Why did you change your mind? About me coming with you?'

She turns to look at him, and he knows that she is about to tell him. He can feel it just on the tip of her tongue. There's a slight blush on her cheeks, as though she's almost embarrassed to admit it, but he doesn't press her. He just waits – curious, itching, impatient for her to say it. _Just say it, wench._

'Because I have to find Sansa Stark,' she says. 'Even a child knows two heads are better than one.'

Then she smiles at him and just for a moment, her blue eyes shine. 'And I suppose three hands are better than two.'

* * *

**A/N**: I apologise for the severe delay with this chapter. I won't bore you all with the tedious details as to why it's taken so long, suffice to say - I'm back on track and hopefully you won't have wait that long for the next chapter! Thank you to everyone who continues to read and to everyone who has reviewed thus far. You guys make this all worthwhile.

Feedback is _greatly_ appreciated!


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